


Those Who Wander

by LavworthMyWay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Gen, Yunan is a magical being in the HP universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavworthMyWay/pseuds/LavworthMyWay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magi are legendary entities who are said to offer guidance to the lost.<br/>Three times the Golden Trio wandered off course.</p><p>The first, when two escaped from immediate danger.</p><p>The second, when one severed his ties with the other two in a moment of blinded blunder.</p><p>The third, when one of them hesitated at the face of death.</p><p>And three times they were brought back to path by the Wandering Magi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Who Wander

The eerie howl of the werewolf behind them sent chills down their spines.

Harry knew they won't be able to outrun Lupin. The strength and agility of mere humans were nothing next to that of werewolves. Harry, Hermione and Buckbeak twisted and turned their way around the forest, squinting through the thick darkness, driven purely by the instinct to distance themselves as far from the beast.

Ears picking up another distant howl ringing throughout the dark dense forest, Harry’s blood ran cold.

He’s getting closer.

Another boost of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Grabbing Hermione by the elbow, he urged her to hurry. He stole a quick glance at Buckbeak, which seemed to be doing fine on its own. He wished that they could ride on it and swoop away to safety. But alas, the dense trees forbade the Hippogriff from moving about freely.

"Harry," Hermione wheezed, looking over her shoulder from time to time, "We won't make it at this rate!"

He knew. Harry _knew_. But what else could he do but to run as far and fast as possible? Blinded by the thick fog and his own fear, he’s at loss. Where was Hagrid’s hut?

"You look like you're in a bind."

Harry’s heart leapt to his throat. Snapping his head to his right, he saw a man he had never seen before. Balanced gracefully on his broomstick (or a really long cane, he didn't see any tail), he was flying just a little ahead of them. His leaf green wizard hat flailed noiselessly against the chilly wind, the two white feathers attached on it fluttering breathlessly. What caught their attention the most, however, was the golden birds flitting around him. The avian companions looked more like bird-ly shapes of light than actual living creatures. The golden glow contrasted drastically with the dingy darkness of the forest, casting an ethereal radiance over the man. He was unlike any other person, Wizard or Muggle, Harry had encountered.

But he was desperate enough to accept any help at this time. "Please, you've got to help us!"

Instead of agreeing immediately to their pleas, he tilted his head to the side and started to question them. "Why don't you try something else instead of running blindly away from danger?"

“ _Pardon?_ ” Hermione shot an irritated glare at the stranger. "We're running for our lives and the first thing you do is to make fun of us?"

"Not making fun," He corrected calmly, "Guiding you. You are too caught up trying to escape the werewolf you lose sight of what is in front of you. As such, instead of just running from the noise – just so you know that sound echoes very easily in this forest so you cannot really pinpoint where the werewolf is – why don't you try something else?”

“Like what, with magic?” Hermione suggested sarcastically. But then her face lit up, any traces of her scowl completely wiped off her face. “That’s it!”

Pulling out her wand, she gave it a swift flick. A ball of blue light burst into view and hovered in the air for a second before gliding away from them. “It’ll lead up to Hagrid’s cabin.” She explained before quickly running after it, with Harry following suit.

Just as they turned to throw words of gratitude to their mysterious rescuer, he was already gone from sight.

Sure enough, they soon found the clearing and Hagrid’s hut was in plain sight. They dashed right into safety.

Later on, Harry realised it was he who saved himself and Sirius from the Dementors. They helped his godfather escape on Buckbeak. Lupin resigned from his post as their professor, and things were the almost same as they were before.

Almost.

Days after the incident, Harry and Ron were in the Gryffindor Common Room playing their third round of wizard’s chess when Hermione scurried over to the both of them and bombarded them with the information she painstakingly gathered from the library to identify their timely saviour. None of the dwellers of the Forest matched the appearances of the mystery man (much to her utter frustration and disappointment), so she searched beyond and scrutinised books on legends and rare entities. Stacks and stacks of yellowed and torn out books later, she finally chanced upon it. The book on Arabian mythology.

The golden birds were theorised to be rukh, a legendary mythical bird of Arabian origins. “And then I looked deeper into this ‘rukh’ thing, and I think I found him.” She thrust a rather thick book into Harry’s thin arms, who almost dropped that heavy thing. With a grunt, he balanced it on his arms (while Ron had his hands hovering below the book in worry for a second) and focused his gaze on the passage pointed out by Hermione:

_Magi are magicians loved by the rukh. They are legendary entities who are said to offer guidance to the lost and power to those worthy to be kings. Previous records show that there are only four known Magi to date: the Wandering Magi who embodies freedom and is also the oldest Magi of the four, the Fallen Magi who embodies destruction, the Great Priestess Magi who embodies power, and the Child of Solomon who embodies wisdom. Past descriptions of the Magi depict that they are surrounded by the rukh and possess great magical power, but besides that not much else is known about the Magi. Sightings of Magi are extremely rare, thus it is said that those who chance upon the Magi are destined for greatness._

“Okay…? What does that mean?” Ron scratched his head, a little lost at what to do with this information.

“That means,” Hermione exclaimed enthusiastically, eyes bright with excitement, “that that man was no ordinary person. He’s a _Magi_. Do you know how _impossible_ it is to see one, let alone talk to one?”

“We’re not even sure if he’s a Magi.” Harry interjected. His arms were starting to ache.

“Trust me. He is.” Hermione said with a tone of finality.

* * *

Pure white snow blanketed the waking streets, gleaming softly under the first sprinkle of the morning sun. Children peppered the pavement as they scampered out of their warm homes to greet the Christmas morning. The streets were lightly doused with the first shower of Christmas spirit. In a single room of a local inn nearby sat a redhead who was not quite uplifted by the cheery festive mood. Head in his arms but ears perked up attentively, he listened carefully to the radio which sat cosily on a rickety wooden table. Anxiety arrested him. Guilt gripped at him. He knew they weren’t dead, but he didn’t know if they were---

“You seem a little crestfallen.”

Head snapping up, Ron spotted a man standing by the window. A man he had never seen before. A rush of fright hurled at him. Muscles tightening in a well-trained instinct to defend himself, he made a hasty grab for the wand. Friend or foe, he sneaked into Ron’s room without making so much of a sound. He stared on with paranoid aggression while the stranger regarded him in kind curiosity with gentle concern swirling in his soft blue eyes. Further observation on Ron’s part revealed to him that this man came off as a strange one: long platinum blond braid stretching over his lithe frame to tickle the surface of the wooden flooring, his wooden staff, which Ron suspected to be longer than he was (and Ron’s pretty tall for his age), was tucked delicately between his arm with what seems to be vines twisted around it. This was one odd magician.

But then again, Ron encountered more eccentric magicians than he encountered spiders. That could be put on a back burner for now.

“Who are you?” Ron demanded.

The stranger’s eyes widened in understanding and he smiled warmly. Which Ron found weird. As far as those in the hunt for Harry, Hermione and Ron were concerned, fair young men with genuine smiles did not fit the list. “I apologise. It slipped my mind that you have not met me before. I am Yunan, a traveller.”

Still, he couldn’t take any chances. “…Stan.”

The half-hearted gesture did not seem to faze Yunan, however, as he continued with casual friendliness. “It’s nice to meet you, Stan. I apologise again if I seem too nosy, but I happened to notice you looking quite downtrodden, so I wanted to approach you.”

Incredulous, Ron glared at Yunan. He continued to point his wand straight at the intruder. “How did you get in?”

Yunan turned around – Ron thought it was rather careless of him. He could have used _Stupefy_ on this bloke right there and then (but something stopped him) – and pointed at the open window. “You left your window open.”

A scoff escaped Ron’s lips. “And that’s your reason for breaking in?”

The magician scratched his cheek lightly, eyebrows furrowed. “I suppose that wasn’t my best idea. I apologise, I am not too good with people.”

Ron raised an eyebrow, but his wand lowered a fraction. “Well, I can see that.”

“You didn’t reply me, however.” Yunan reminded him, a comforting smile gracing his lips. “I mentioned that you look quite crestfallen.”

 “W-Well, I guess I’m pretty dashed right now.” How Yunan managed to see that, Ron had absolutely no clue.

“A falling out with someone, perhaps?” Yunan guessed. Ron shrugged.

“I was in the wrong, anyway.” He admitted, tone bitter. A little reassured that this stranger was not going to attack him anytime soon, he lowered his wand a little more. A spike of agitation hit him when he noticed Yunan’s eyes flicker to his fingers for a second. But then he brought his gaze down to the floor in what seemed to be an act of politeness. Ron almost laughed. Of all things to show courtesy for, he showed it to his Splinched hand.

Oh, right. He lost two of his fingernails trying to Disapparate from those darn Snatchers. It hurt like _hell_ then.

His current companion hummed in thought at Ron’s words. “Why don’t you try apologising to them?”

“Nah,” The younger male shrugged in dejected discontentment, “Too late. Went back to the place where I separated from them and they’re already gone. I have no clue where they’re heading.”

“It’s never too late.” Came the quick reply. Ron glanced at Yunan, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed by his optimism.

He went on. “You may think there is nothing you can do, but as long as they are still alive it is never too late. It is only too late when they are long gone and you realise you will never get the chance to relay your true feelings to them.”

His words dropped to a low murmur, and Ron couldn’t help but notice the wistful gleam in his eyes, his downcast gaze heavy with hidden remorse. But then the man blinked, and it was gone.

“So you should go look for them.” Yunan looked up, smile laced with encouragement. “The bonds between people are precious, yet many fail to see the irreplaceable value behind them. You should not let opportunity slip past your fingers, especially if they are dear to you.”

Ron sighed heavily. “I know, but…” There’s no way for him to find them now. They could be on the other end of the world for all he knew.

“Listen to what your heart has to say, Stan. You focus so much on what is beyond your reach, that you fail to notice that the answer has always been in your grasp.”

The boy considered his words for a moment, and settled his thoughts. Maybe this odd bloke spoke some sense, as suspicious as he was. Yunan seemed content leaning against the wall, so Ron allowed himself to relax for a bit. He hushed out the surrounding noise in his mind, and _focused_. What was always in his grasp? What did he have which he never realised could help him? Just what in the world was it?

_“…Ron.”_

His eyes shot open. Flinging his head frantically to find the voice – _her_ voice – Ron felt a surge of ecstasy crash into him. But as he processed the new information, he realised it didn’t come from his surroundings. It came out from his pocket.

With cautious impatience, he dug his hand into his pocket and fished out--- the Deluminator. It seemed highly unlikely, but he’s positive he heard Hermione’s voice from there. With a click, the light went out.

But then, another light flickered outside the window. It pulsed an electric blue, and though Ron didn’t know how this worked, but he knew he had to follow it no matter what. The load of guilt was off his shoulders, and his heart palpitated with growing anticipation and newly budded hope.

He turned to Yunan, who sent a proud beam in his way.

Ron scratched the back of his neck, a hint of awkwardness creeping at him. “Thank you, I guess? But how did you know…?”

“I know many things, Ronald.” Yunan tilted his staff towards the window. “Now, off you go. They’re waiting.”

“Yeah.” Ron walked to his chair and grabbed his stuff. As his fingers curled around the strap he froze in his movements. He told Yunan he was Stan, Hermione whispered “Ron”, and yet---

He spun around to face the window only to find the spot unoccupied. The only indication of the presence of the mysterious magician was a single golden bird fluttering gracefully in the cold Christmas air.

* * *

An awful sense of foreboding clung onto Harry as he stopped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

This was it.

Once he stepped in, there’s no turning back.

He’s been trying to hold back his fear and trepidation, leash them in like disobedient animals. Trying to be brave till the very last moment. Trying not to fear death. Come on, he’s the Boy who Lived. Dangling over the pit of death already became a common occurrence to him. He could do this.

A pathetic scoff slipped out of his lips. Who was he kidding.

(With detached fondness, he recalled Remus’s words, that it was wise of him to feel fear for fear itself. The thought of Remus burdened Harry with regret and yearning. He missed him so, _so_ much.)

“It’s certainly nice to see you again, Harry.”

Said boy jolted, his miserable mulling jerking to a halt. He spun around to face the source of the voice. He couldn’t say who he was expecting, but he wasn’t surprised to find out it was _him_.

“You again.” Harry pointed out matter-of-factly. “Is it just me or do you live in the Forbidden Forest?”

A childlike smile tugged on Yunan’s lips. “I do have a particular liking to dark places, but I do not reside here. I am a traveller, I do not live in a specific place, so to speak."

"Ron said someone helped him right before he came back to us." Sometime after Ron’s return, he was filling in Harry (and Hermione after she was in a good enough temper to talk to him) the specific details during the time he was away ( _“There was a mysterious fella in green. Really long hair. No idea how he's been maintaining it. I think I saw a golden bird too._ ”). "Was it you?"

Yunan smiled. "Yes, it was me. But enough about me for now. Where might you be heading?” He inquired lightly, swiftly changing the conversation topic. Poised and composed, he stood a little further than an arm’s length away from Harry. His calm eyes betrayed no emotion, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to end up so close to him without him realising. Shifting his weight, Harry tested the sound of the leaves crunching beneath his shoe. Yunan would have to be as light as a feather to have walked up to him without making any noise.

Harry hesitated, unsure of how to answer. The sinking dread in his stomach clamped his throat tight with fear anyway. “What are you doing here?” He decided to ask. “It’s not safe.”

Yunan chuckled softly. “I realised. Why are you here, then?”

An urge to laugh bubbled inside Harry. He was most possibly going to die in a while, with the Dark Lord eagerly waiting to take his life, and here he was striking up a casual conversation with a person. Absurd as it was, it comforted him somehow.

“I’m here to save my friends and all those people at Hogwarts. I have to do this.”

The gentle smile on Yunan widened, his gaze ever soft. “Is that so? How noble of you. But, you seem to hesitate.”

“What?” A frown etched onto Harry’s weary face. “No, I’m not.” Of course he wasn’t. He made his decision back then at Hogwarts. That he would save everyone at Hogwarts once he entered the Forbidden Forest.

But then the faces of Neville and Ginny just before he left flashed past his mind. He lied through his teeth to Neville. He couldn’t comfort Ginny. He left Hogwarts. He left home.

The Magi tilted his head, his gaze unwavering and piercing. “It is perfectly fine to feel fear. What lies up ahead of you is full of danger and death. Being afraid does not equate to the lack of bravery. It just shows you value your life.”

No. He’s wrong. Harry’s a coward and a failure. He couldn’t save anyone. He lied to his friends. He lied to himself. He’s taking the easy way out.

He’s a coward and he knew it well.

"Why are you doing so much for us?"

"It is my duty to guide the lost." Was his simple reply.

Frustration and resentment boiled inside Harry. He clenched his fists tight. "Then why aren't you doing more?" He thought of Lupin and Fred and all those who lost their lives in the battle when they could – when they should have lived. "If you can help us this much so far, why aren’t you helping us now, when we really need it?!"

Yunan regarded him solemnly, his eyes filled with sorrowful empathy. “I am but a traveller. I can and will not directly interfere with your decisions. You alone have the power to make your own choices, because free will is the ultimate form of freedom one can attain.”

Harry sighed, angry and defeated. “Easier said than done.”

“Nothing meaningful is easy to accomplish.” Yunan replied calmly. “But it is the fact that those choices are made by you which makes those precious moments worth their while."

Harry first thought of those glorious days when Gryffindor won the Quidditch match. Then he thought of the times he underwent dangerous endeavours to save his friends. Now he thought of the present time, where he was going to sacrifice himself to save everyone.

And finally he understood Yunan’s words.

Harry looked up at him, strengthened resolve set in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Yunan returned it with a delighted smile. “It was my pleasure. I wish you all the best, Harry Potter.”

Harry blinked, and Yunan vanished.

His gaze lingered at the now empty space. But he no longer felt empty. Hesitation did not haunt him, and Harry felt _brave_. To show courage at the face of death, that was what it took to be a true Gryffindor. Speaking of which, he truly missed being the Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He wondered who would take his role after he’s gone.

He patted the pouch at his neck and carefully scooped out the Snitch.

_I open at the close._

Well, it’s now or never.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was unplanned. It was as spontaneous as an untimely chemical combustion.
> 
> I was too overwhelmed by my newfound love for Yunan that I couldn't help but itch to put him into words. But writing him in the canon Magi universe didn't give me enough inspiration, so I looked for alternatives which had magical universes. And then I remembered Harry Potter. There was also another fic which had a similar setting, and that gave me the inspiration I needed to work on this.
> 
> I tried my best not to alter the events too much. I ensured that the general plot hardly changes, but some liberty was taken to add my own details into it. That is why I made Yunan an 'observer' rather than an 'intervenor', which also works in Yunan's character. So I got that going for me, which is nice. I hope this was an alright read. 
> 
> Yunan reminds me somewhat of Kaworu, though. Doesn't help that they share the same voice actor.


End file.
